Secret Talk of Han Ming, Whispers of Old Schemes; Hearing of Strength, Not Evil, Worries of Ink's Division

Guan Han shook his head with a bitter smile, quickly putting the mechanism mask back on. He pointed to the pile of scrap iron in the corner of the workshop. "There are too many eyes and ears here. This isn't a place to talk. Let's go somewhere secluded over there."

Xuanmingzi hurriedly nodded and followed Guan Han through the crowd of busy craftsmen to the dimly lit corner piled high with scrap iron.

Several empty tung oil barrels stood there as well, perfectly blocking the view from outside and ensuring no one could eavesdrop.

Leaning against the cold scrap iron, Xuanmingzi looked at Guan Han in his craftsman's clothes and let out a heavy sigh, his voice brimming with helplessness and bitterness. "I never imagined that it was one thing for us Heaven Sect cultivators to fall to such a state, but even you, an elder of the Mohist School, have become an ordinary craftsman in the Mohist Pavilion. The ways of this world truly are impossible to predict."

"Don't dwell on my affairs, Dao Brother." Guan Han gently shook his head, concern coloring his voice. "How did you end up here, Dao Brother? Doing such trifling patrol work for this Mohist Pavilion?"

"Ah, that matter..." Xuanmingzi sighed and laid out everything that had happened.

From Xiaoyaozi's disciple traveling a great distance up the mountain to seek aid, to Yun Miao rashly taking action in a moment of muddleheadedness to shield a corrupt official, to several of them entering the city a second time to help Yun Miao break free of her inner demon, and finally being "left with no choice" but to work for the Mohist Pavilion because of Yun Miao's inner demon.

For the sake of his pride, Xuanmingzi did not explain certain details too clearly, merely glossing